Fervefacio
by Ficalicious
Summary: Set in the Forest of Dean during Deathly Hallows. What happens when Ron returns and finally allows himself to admit his feelings for Hermione?
**Fervefacio (Latin: Heat)**

 **All rights, characters etc. do not belong to me. They belong to J.K Rowling. I make no money from this.**

 **Author's note: Hey guys, it's been a LONG time since I wrote anything. Like, three years or something. So I thank all the readers who used to follow me, maybe still follow me, and who have waited patiently for me to write again. I do have some new things in the works, but it will be slow going so please be patient. Reviews certainly speed up the process so drop a few of those my way and see what happens… Be kind. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, as I've only just gotten into it.**

 **Fervefacio (Latin: Heat)**

 **Set in the Forest of Dean during Deathly Hallows. What happens when Ron returns and finally allows himself to admit his feelings for Hermione?**

The ghostly glow of the birch's bark illuminated the night. There was a gentle hush upon the forest; as though the trees, the animals, the earth itself were holding their collective breaths. Even the ice on the lake was silent; devoid of its usual shifting and movement. The whole forest appeared to be waiting. For what was unclear.

The small canvas tent sat nestled amongst a gathering of oaks whose boughs hid it from the view of the casual passer-by. Had anyone been wandering so far into the forest that late in the year, and had they managed to bypass the protective spells placed to conceal the tent and its occupants they may have seen the tent to be unassuming, possibly unused.

For the tent did have a raggedy air about it, certainly. And it was rather small and old fashioned. Indeed, any unassuming person who stumbled upon it probably would not have thought twice and would have continued on their way.

Unfortunately for the three the tent concealed it was not the casual passer-by that they were worried about.

Ron Weasley sat huddled on a sleeping bag peeling his drenched socks from his aching feet. He did not utter a single complaint about his discomfort; although he was sorely tempted to do so. He did not make a murmur or mumble of displeasure at having spent the last three hours on watch. Oh no. He had not made a sole negative remark about the whole unpleasant business of being stuck in a tent in the woods in the freezing cold.

One might be inclined to ask why, considering, merely weeks before, Ron would not have hesitated to make his displeasure known to his companions. Why, now, did he bite his tongue? Because every minute that he had sat in the freezing snow: every single tedious second he had spent feeling his body slowly turn to ice – he had been grateful. Elatedly, screamingly grateful that he had managed to find his friends and re-join them. Grateful that they would have him back. Grateful to see Harry's panicked face when he had pulled him from the lake. Grateful that he had been able to destroy that blasted Horcrux that had been the cause of him leaving in the first place.

But most of all he was grateful for Hermione. To see her standing there in the woods, hair wild, eyes raging, cheeks flushed – his heart had burst with love. She had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment as she wanted to kill him.

Thankfully Harry hadn't given her the wand and Ron had managed to remain intact, bar the angry hits Hermione had bestowed upon his chest and arms before he had swept her into a tight hug. And while his heart had lurched with a dull ache as he felt her body shudder with sobs and he wanted to cry right there along with her, he looked over her shoulder and caught Harry's eye. Harry smirked, knowing both of his best friends' unspoked feelings for one another.

Ron mouthed 'mental' and rolled his eyes, causing Harry to laugh and Hermione to begrudgingly pull out of Ron's embrace. She had quickly moved to the kitchenette to make tea, her back steadfastly to the two young men.

And that had been how it remained for the following two weeks. Moving every few days, researching, being cold and wet and tired.

Hermione had not spoken again of Ron's leaving, or of his return. In fact, she had been notably brusque with Ron. Strictly business. It was as though she had shut herself off from him and he missed her desperately. Life simply wasn't the same without their bickering. He found himself swearing more often in the hopes of prompting her to chastise him for his language. It never came. And despite the fact that they took shifts on watch he felt that he was rarely alone with her. Instead Hermione opted to keep Harry company on his watch, sleep or remained buried in a book. Ron understood her anger, felt he deserved it even, but that did not ease the sadness he felt at the loss of one of his best friends.

So it was with these thoughts prevalent in his mind as he sat there trying to thaw out his frozen feet that he realised that Hermione had not followed Harry outside. In fact, she was neither asleep nor reading either. She was sitting on her sleeping bag, book resting on her lap, watching him determinedly.

"Bloody cold out there," he said conversationally, rubbing his feet for good measure. He gave her a tentative smile, expecting her to go back to her book. He was surprised when she gave him a small smile back.

"Are your feet ok?" She asked him quietly. Ron nodded quickly, elated that she had shown concern for him, however small it was.

"Yeah, they'll be right. Warm 'em up and all." He moved his hands briskly over the icy flesh, willing his toes to stop feeling as though they would snap off with any sudden movements. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione put her book to the side. His heart sank as he presumed she was going to sleep. He couldn't keep the surprise off his face when he felt her kneel on the edge of his sleeping bag. Looking up he saw the towel she was holding out to him. With a smile of thanks, he reached out and took it causing Hermione to gasp when their hands touched.

"Your hands are freezing!"

"Not as bad as my feet," he shrugged.

"Were you wearing gloves out there?" She asked, a familiarly stern expression settling on her delicate features.

"I…I don't have any." Ron felt his ears redden with embarrassment. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though Hermione didn't know his financial state and that he couldn't just nick off to the shops to buy some new ones after he'd left the last lot in a pub somewhere when he'd walked out on them. No, he felt like a hindrance, a silly child that caused more trouble than actually helping them.

Hermione seemed to read his expression and chose wisely not to say anything. Instead she waved her wand over the towel and murmured "fervefacio". She passed Ron the towel.

"That will help." She said, her voice gentle. Ron almost sighed with pleasure as her rubbed the now heated towel over his aching hands and feet. That was a nifty spell and he planned to remember it.

"Thanks!" He grinned. "Feels much better." He wriggled his toes for emphasis and grinned wider when he saw Hermione trying to smother a smile. He'd take frost bite at this point if it meant that Hermione might be even a small step closer to forgiving him.

"You need new shoes," she frowned, picking up his worn old boot. Ron's ears burned again as he felt ashamed at being so ill-prepared for this journey they were on.

"They're rubbish, I know. But they were all I had. Didn't fancy coming barefoot, did I?"

"Ron…" Hermione turned her face from him out of what Ron assumed as disgust. He felt angry. At her. At himself. At Harry for being the bloody Chosen One. It took a moment for him to realise that she had gotten up and moved back to her bed. Before he could say anything she was back again with her enchanted bag. Ron's eyebrows rose as she pulled a pair of hiking boots from its depths.

"They were my dad's He's the same size as you. I had meant to give them to you before…well before everything." She handed the boots to him and reached back into her bag, pulling out a thick pair of woollen gloves. "Wear these on watch." She said with a smile. Ron cautiously took them, still not sure what to think. His pride was urging him not to accept them.

"You just keep random men's clothes in your bag?" He raised a sceptical brow. Hermione rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"I packed extra clothes for all of us," she told him patiently. "We don't know how long we are going to be on the road so it seemed prudent to be prepared."

Ron snorted.

"What?" A familiar look of annoyance crossed her face. It had been too long since Ron had seen that fire in her eyes and it made his heart leap with joy.

"Just you, Hermione," he grinned. He chuckled when she let out an infuriated huff.

"Exactly _what_ is that supposed to mean?"

"Always thinking, planning ahead. Reckon me 'n Harry'd have been lost without you."

Hermione slightly resembled a codfish Her mouth hung agape and her eyes were wide with shock. Ron couldn't help but chuckle again at seeing her speechless. Apparently there were firsts for everything.

"Thanks for the boots, Hermione." He gave her a gentle smile. Hermione's mouth snapped shut and she nodded.

"You're welcome." She slowly stood and moved back to her bed. Ron watched her go before picking up the boots. They were good boots and he knew they would keep his feet much warmer than his old ones. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought that Hermione had thought of him, had packed for him. A small voice in the back of his mind pointed out that it would have been nice if she'd handed the boots over two weeks ago instead of letting him freeze but Ron quickly squelched it. She'd packed for him. She'd thought of him. A fire burst inside him and Ron no longer felt cold. In fact, he felt like even a few hours on watch wouldn't be enough to cool those flames.

With a smile he pulled open his sleeping bag and climbed in. He glanced over at Hermione and noted that she had gone back to her book. He lay down with a small smile. He might as well get a few hours' sleep before it was his turn for watch again.

He was just dozing off when he heard Hermione's voice break the silence.

"Goodnight Ron."

Ron's heart jumped to hear his name on her lips after so long. Even though they had a long way to go to fixing the damage he had caused Ron knew that they would get there.

"Goodnight Hermione," he said with a grin and allowed himself to fall asleep.

RHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHR

It was late. Very late. Ron blinked his eyes, trying to figure out what had woken him. The tent was cold now. Both he and Hermione had woken respectively and completed another watch each. He'd only been asleep for a short while, he was sure of it so there was no way he was being woken for his next shift.

So what was it that had woken him? And then he heard it. Moans. More specifically cries. And they were coming from Hermione. Quickly throwing off his sleeping bag Ron scrambled through the darkness towards her.

"Lumos," he whispered and the tip of his wand glowed. He could see Hermione's tear stained face screwed up with pain. She appeared to be still asleep.

"Hermione?" he gently shook her arm. She cried out and pulled away, obviously still dreaming. Grabbing both her arms he shook her a bit harder, wanting to pull her from whatever nightmare she was trapped in.

"Hermione!" he said more forcefully. "Hermione wake up!" His heart lurched as she sobbed. Whatever she was dreaming about it wasn't pleasant. "You're having a nightmare."

With a cry and a gasp Hermione's eyes shot open.

"Ron?" she gasped, her chest heaving. Ron had never seen her so shaken.

"It's ok Hermione. It was just a dream." He ran his hand over her clammy forehead before surprising himself with the intimate move of wiping her tears from her cheeks.

"You left." Her voice was shaking. Ron felt such an immense sense of shame wash over him. He _had_ left. He had left her.

"I'm here now, Hermione." He said thickly. "I'm here now." He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I'm here now," he murmured again, his voice catching.

"You just left me." Hermione's eyes were glistening in the light from his wand. Ron swallowed hard at the pain in her voice. Had this been why she'd been so mad at him since he'd returned?

"I was a right git for doing it. But we can talk about that in the morning." He tried to keep his voice gentle despite the pain her words caused him. "Do you want some water?" he asked, moving to go to the kitchenette. Hermione tightened her grasp on his hand. "I'll be right back," he promised, gently extricating his hand and moving quickly to get her a glass of water. His hand shook as he handed it to her, realising how upset she was.

"Thank you." Her eyes didn't leave Ron's as she drank. He wondered what she had been dreaming about to have her so shaken. He'd never seen Hermione so vulnerable. Even in their first year when she'd overheard him bad mouthing her she hadn't looked as vulnerable as she did there in the tent.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," he mumbled causing surprise to settle on her features. "I knew it the second I left that it was wrong. And I tried to come back right away but I couldn't. Your spells were too good." He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Why did you leave?"

And there it was. Why did he leave? How could he explain all the doubts, the worries, the hate that the locked had planted in him?

"It's hard to explain, he said thickly. Hermione made an expression as if to say he'd better figure out how to explain it and do it quick. Ron almost chuckled but wisely thought better of it.

"I was hearing things," he started. "The locket was putting stuff in my head. Thoughts and doubts and stuff."

"Like what?"

"Me being useless. You 'n Harry not really wanting me here. You 'n Harry…" he trailed off, his ears burning. He hadn't meant to mention that.

"The locket was playing off your fears. It was trying to break us all apart, to stop us from destroying it." Hermione said quietly. "And Harry and I were nothing but friends, for the record." It was her turn to go red and Ron felt his heart thud at her admission. It seemed pretty poor timing to be even thinking about his feelings for Hermione but he couldn't help it. That locked had forced him to accept his feelings and admit that he cared about Hermione as more than a friend. All those years of bickering, his resentment of Krum, his jealousy; it all made sense in a blazing wash of clarity and when he had left the pain in his heart made him realise it was all true.

So yeah, the timing wasn't great but he figured it was true what they said about facing death making you realise what was important to you. And Hermione was important to him.

"Good." He heard himself mumble. They sat there in awkward silence for several moments. "Guess we ought to go to sleep." Ron moved to get up. Hermione's small hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Stay," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"Stay here with me. I think I would sleep better if I could feel you here with me." She said in a rush, her face burning. Ron's ears felt as though they were going to combust. Did she just ask him to sleep with her?

"Don't make me ask twice, Ron," she murmured in an embarrassed sort of way. Ron felt the corners of his mouth tug up and resisted the urge to see what would happen if she had to ask twice.

Taking mercy on her he moved to lie beside her. He lay stiffly on his side facing her. Hermione swallowed deeply and lay down next to him, pulling the sleeping bag over them both. It was a bit of a squeeze but Ron thought it was brilliant.

"We will be warmer like this," Hermione reasoned, turning on her side and pulling Ron's hand until her was spooning her. Ron smiled into her hair at the way she tried to find a logical excuse for her wanting to spoon with him. He inhaled the sweet smell of her shampoo and wondered that she was able to smell so good when they were stuck in this tent. He felt fairly certain his own personal hygiene had slipped recently.

He let out a sigh of contentment and tightened his arm around her waist. This was something he could certainly get used to. Smiling to himself as he felt Hermione snuggle back into him Ron finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

RHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHR

They settled into somewhat of a routine after that. The first morning Ron had been jolted awake by Harry. Both Hermione and he had slept through their watch shifts and Harry had finally come to wake them when he could no longer stay awake.

Despite their obvious embarrassment Harry had simply smirked and fallen into his own bed, exhausted. Ron and Hermione had shared the next few shifts, talking and laughing like they hadn't done in a long time. It was as though they were making up for lost time.

The following week had been much the same until their run in with the snatchers. Ron's heart still hurt at the memory of Hermione's screams. When he had seen the word _mudblood_ carved into her arm he had seen red. He would have killed Bellatrix LeStrange if he'd had the chance.

The whole thing had happened so fast. And then they were on the beach and Dobby had died and Hermione was in his arms and everything else that was going on at Shell Cottage had taken over. It was little wonder that he longed to spend the majority of his day in bed. That may have been helped by the fact that Hermione had barely left his side. Not that he'd let her even if she wanted to. He had spent every night holding her. They had shared several kisses, each becoming fierier than the last and Ron spent his days dreaming himself back into his bed where his hands and lips had begun exploring Hermione.

Ron knew that he should feel bad. He knew that he should be focussing all of his energy on the war and He Who Shall Not Be Named and all that but Ron couldn't help himself. His feelings for Hermione, finally realised, were not about to take a back seat because some nose-less git with a god complex wanted to make them all miserable. Not to mention that his hormones were pretty much in control of him at the moment.

On the outside Shell Cottage was as peaceful and serene as it always had been. Inside it was swarming with people which was why Ron found himself sitting on the sand dunes above the beach. He'd needed a break from all the noise and stress.

It was calming out there. The waves gently lapping at the shore were peaceful. There were stars twinkling in the dark sky above. It was easy to fool himself into believing he was just any other 17-year-old and there was no such thing as Voldemort.

Even as he thought the name Ron shuddered and he hated himself for it. Hermione had told him on more than one occasion that a name couldn't hurt him. But she hadn't grown up hearing all the horror stories. Now they were living them.

A twig snapped nearby and Ron's head turned quickly, his wand raising.

"It's me," he heard Hermione's voice in the darkness.

"'Mione? Over here." He stood and saw her making her way through the tall sea grass.

"I thought you might be out here," she said, moving to sit beside him.

"Yeah, was getting a bit much in there."

"We're leaving tomorrow." Hermione wrapped her arm around his and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah," Ron didn't know what to say. He knew what was ahead of them and he dreaded it. Somehow, he wished they could all stay there, at Shell Cottage, cocooned in a false sense of safety.

"I almost wish we didn't have to leave," Hermione muttered as though she'd read his thoughts. Ron nodded and linked his fingers with hers.

It was nice being this comfortable with one another. There was a sense of peace that had settled in his mind the moment he'd allowed himself to accept his feelings for her.

"Guess everything will be different once this is all over." His voice was almost sullen. Hermione frowned.

"How do you mean?"

"Well once there's no threat or imminent danger you're going to realise you don't actually fancy me." He gave a self-depreciating chuckle but stopped when Hermione pulled away from him.

"Is that what you really think?" Her voice had taken on the haughty tone he knew so well.

'Yeah. No. I don't know. Maybe. I mean, our timing hasn't exactly been brilliant. And besides. You're way too clever for the likes of me." He looked away. He was surprised to feel her small fingers graze his chin, tilting his face back towards her.

"I didn't just decide I liked you because we might very well die, Ronald Weasley." She held his gaze. Ron felt his ears burning. "I have loved you for a lot longer than that." She told him firmly.

Ron felt his mouth drop open, mimicking her earlier expression. Had she just said that she loved him? She couldn't have. Why would someone as brilliant as Hermione love him? She could do a million times better. Not that he wanted her to. He'd jinx any guy that dared to look at her. But still, the things the Horcrux had said to him were lurking in his mind, playing on his insecurities.

"Do close your mouth Ron, "Hermione gently closed his mouth with a smile.

"You love me?" his voice sounded oddly strangled. He cleared his throat. "You love me?"

"Yes, Ron, I do. And don't let all those doubts of yours try to convince you otherwise. I am perfectly sound of mind and I am telling you that I love you Ronald Weasley."

Ron felt a little pop somewhere in his heart and warmth flooded his body. She loved him.

"I love you too Hermione." He laced his fingers with hers. "Reckon I have done for ages, just couldn't bring myself to realise it. Sorry I've been such a git." Ron noticed a tear slipping down her cheek. Frowning, he wiped it away.

"What's wrong? Thought you'd be pleased I was admitting you've been right all this time."

"It's just nice to finally hear you say it." She smiled through her tears. "Can't believe it too us so long."

"Well you know I can be a bit thick," Ron chuckled. Hermione laughed and Ron couldn't help himself. He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. He shuddered as he felt her tongue trace his, causing his arms to tighten around her. Pulling back, they both gasped for breath. Ron felt as though his every nerve ending was standing at attention. His skin felt hyper sensitive and his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.

Hermione ran her hand across his shoulder, tangling her fingers in his hair. She pulled his face to hers and nipped at his lips.

This was a side of Hermione that he had only recently become privy to. Who would have known that haughty, bookish Hermione was wildly passionate?

 _It's always the quiet ones,_ he used to himself.

His hands found their way into Hermione's tousled locks and pulled her against him. He captured her lips and allowed himself to kiss her senseless. This was something he would happily spend a lot more time doing.

Hermione's kisses were fierce. He found himself vying for dominance as their tongues duelled. They kissed the way the argued he realised. Passionate, heated, fierce and he couldn't get enough of Hermione's full lips against his own.

Groaning, Ron allowed himself to fall back into the sand. Hermione fell with him and settled her body atop him; chest to chest, her legs alongside his. Her hands rested on his chest before trailing down his stomach and slipping under his jumper.

Ron hissed a breath at the feel of her hot hands on him and kissed her more fervently. His erection ached and he shifted to try to find some relief. In doing so he managed to pull Hermione more fully on top of him. She let out a husky little "oh" as her hips settled against his erection causing Ron to groan.

In the last few days they had tentatively explored each other's bodies: first above clothes before, shyly, they had ventured further. Ron was familiar now with the swell of her breasts, her moist heat, what it took to pleasure her. He was familiar with it but he was still in awe by it. And his body certainly still reacted to it.

That was why when he felt her hand tentatively slip under the waistband of his jeans he buked his hips in shock. She had only touched him _there_ above his clothes.

"'Mione," she started, his voice hoarse. "You don't have to…" his ears burned at the implication of his words.

"I want to Ron. I don't want to wait." She settled him with a look of determination but he could see the vulnerability in her eyes. Ron raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I was going to wait until everything was over…." She started. When she realised that Ron needed more explanation she continued. "To make love with you…" she said in a rush. It took a moment for Ron's brain to process her words but before he could say anything she continued.

"I thought I wanted to wait – that we should wait – but I don't want to. Wait, that is." She looked down at him, her eyes huge.

"Why?" Ron finally managed to find his tongue before mentally kicking himself. That was hardly smooth or romantic. Hermione, however, didn't seem to notice.

"We could be dead tomorrow. Or the day after. We don't know what's coming or if we will win this war. And I don't want to die regretting not being with you." She couldn't meet his eye. Ron bent his head so that their eyes finally met.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he swore. And he meant it. He would die before anyone laid a finger on Hermione.

"I love you Ron."

"Love you to Hermione."

This kiss felt different than the last. Something had changed. It was deeper; more passionate. Ron rolled his body, pushing Hermione into the sand as he trailed kisses down her neck. He rested his lower body against her, trying not to groan at the wicked pressure she was putting on his erection.

Reading between them Ron's hand popped the button on Hermione's pants and slid down the zipper. Slipping his hand inside he did groan at her scalding heat. She was already so wet.

"Ron," she moaned. His confidence boosting, Ron ran his fingers over her nubbin, drawing a gasp and a shudder from Hermione. Smiling against her lips he flicked his fingers again, eliciting a growl of pleasure from her. He could happily spend the rest of his life making those noises come out of Hermione.

It was his turn to moan when Hermione's hand slipped inside his pants and inexpertly caressed the straining flesh there. Ron gulped in air and tried to still his hips or it would all be over too quickly.

 _Think unsexy thoughts,_ he mentally scolded himself, swallowing hard as Hermione's fingers wrapped around his shaft. _McGonagall naked. Hagrid naked. Snape naked._ Ron mentally recoiled. If he kept that up the mood would be ruined for a whole other reason.

Feeling a rush of love for Hermione he gently extricated her hands from his pants and drew them to his lips, kissing them gently. Her confused expression softened and she kissed him. Without words Ron began to lift her jumper and shirt over her head. Hermione allowed him to before unzipping his hoody and slipping it from his broad shoulders. Her fingers trembled as they reached for the hem of his t shirt. Ron's met hers and helped her take it off him.

Ron recognised her nervousness as he as feeling it too. His body was trembling with his need for her but his stomach turned with nerves. What if he hurt her? What if he wasn't any good? What if it was over to quickly?

Pushing these thoughts away he helped Hermione out of her pants before shucking his own. They stared at each other, there in their underwear. She was beautiful. Ron licked his lips. Feeling Hermione's eyes on his body made his cock twitch and Ron set about putting together a makeshift blanket out of their clothing to hide his embarrassment.

Laying on his side he beckoned Hermione to join him. He ran his fingers over her milky skin, enjoying the dip of her clavicle, her shoulder and down the soft skin of her arm. He paused momentarily on the scar still marring her and felt such hate for the person who had put it there.

Instead, he kissed her passionately and pulled her flush against him. He was going to make sure that Hermione Granger knew how much he loved her.

RHHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHRHR

They lay together in the dunes for a long time afterward; Ron holding Hermione to him. He had had a blind moment of panic when he couldn't figure out her bra clasp, and another when he had pushed inside her heat and she had cried out in pain but overall he felt it had gone well.

He didn't really know what to feel at that moment. He was glad that they had gone through with it and he couldn't wait to do it again. He felt that with a bit more practice he could make it more pleasurable for Hermione. Not that she didn't seem to have enjoyed herself.

"Stop thinking," he heard her soft voice from where her head was resting on his chest.

"Not often you have to tell me that," Ron chuckled, dropping a kiss onto her curls.

"It was perfect, Ron." She assured him, seemingly reading his mind again. Ron was beginning to wonder if she had been developing legilimency without he or Harry knowing. All the same, Ron felt the tension leave his body at her words. Pulling her tighter against him he let himself smile. He didn't know what they would face tomorrow, or the next day but it was a great comfort knowing that he had Hermione. It made the whole defeating Voldemort thing seem much more manageable.

Whatever was coming their way he knew that he and Hermione, and Harry, would be able to take it. And he felt a great heat flush through his body at the knowledge that he would give his life for the woman in his arms if the need arose. He would make it his mission to protect her.

She was his.


End file.
